Presentation's Everything
by lisemiserable
Summary: When you can't be with the boy you like even if he might like you back because he's part of the resident vault gang. Relatable, right. Paul Hannon Jr and F!LW


If you followed the ribbons of smoke through the vents and the spaces under the doors, you would find us. Him sitting on the edge of the couch, vault suit unzipped below his hips. I was laying nude on the couch, beneath a thin linen blanket, suit tossed haphazardly across the coffee table, beside a dirty ashtray.

"Do I tell you I love you?" He asked.

I squirmed under the blanket, loosening its uncomfortable hold around my chest.

"If you don't, then don't bother. If you do, well… " I wanted to say that it would be unfortunate or that he shouldn't bother with that either, but I never finished the sentence.

He placed his hand where, beneath the blanket, was my thigh. The warmth was a pleasant contrast to the cool air that the blanket hardly kept out, if my nipples were any indication.

He turned his head to look at me, not in the eye, but just blankly at my face. He seemed uncertain, but his demeanor shifter when the ends of his lips curled up as he closed his eyes and dipped his head back, "Huh."

"Paul."

"Yes?" I watched him exhale smoke.

"Pass me my vault suit."

I sat up. The blanket fell to my waist and my torso met the cold, recycled air. He reached for my vault suit, letting the cigarette butt in his mouth fall into the ashtray.

He seemed deep in thought and I was momentarily struck with a pang of concern or maybe self-consciousness about what the past few hours could have provoked him to be so thoughtful about and I, compelled to interrupt, coughed for his attention.

"Are you my boyfriend, then?" I asked him, fake-serious, straight faced.

The sweet smile I was anticipating broke through his serious demeanor.

"Yeah right, you wish."

I laughed with him, "So what, Butch is still your main-squeeze?"

It was a secret I kept deeper than he could ever fuck me, but I really did want to be with him outside of the cigar lounge, during hours other than the wee ones. He was so handsome. I like to think that if it weren't for his friends, we'd have a chance. Paul was an impressionable guy, though, and Butch was someone whose approval he would have a hard time living without. It was amazing to me that we ever arranged these meetings.

"Hey shut up—" He dove onto the couch, surprising me while I was still trying to turn the sleeves of my vault suit right-side out. He kissed me and I only wanted to kiss him for the rest of my sanitized vault life span. Kissing this boy, I thought, should be my whole life. Absolute bliss filled my body, tingling into my toes and into my fingertips, gushing through my mouth and filling my face with what I imagined to be happiness. His hand belonged on my waist; my hand belonged on his chest, on his cheek. I never wanted to stop kissing him. The threat of discovery loomed over the both of us as the time approached for the next security shift change, but neither of us appeared to give it the time of day when we were together like this.

Paul was so gentle. It was hard to miss it, even as he played the part of Butch's lackey. His parents raised him polite and cordial and mild-mannered, I guess. Or maybe it was just his nature. He was such a sweet contrast to Butch and Wally, despite what how much effort he used putting on the Tunnel Snake act. Amata knew I liked him since I was 9 or something. Naturally, she disapproved, but she began noticing how, out of the three 'Class of 2276' trouble-makers, Paul pulled our hair the least and had the highest test scores. Out of the three, he told me once, he also had the biggest dick.

His lips moved to my neck and my head fell back, but I thought about Butch. Fuck that guy. He had been a pain since I was born, from what my dad told me about his attempts to get me play dates with Mrs. DeLoria and her son. Screaming and deflated kickballs and spilled formula milk, he told me. Since birth that asshole has given me nothing but trouble and shown only an aptitude for immaturity. When I fought him at my 10th birthday party and messed up his nose, I guess that's when he had officially decided to try to fuck up my world every chance he could get.

I made a sigh of something notably other than pleasure.

Although he made it his life goal or whatever to ruin me, being Paul's friend was probably the one thing Butch has done that has brought me the most discontent, I was thinking.

Paul brought his hand to my cheek and lowered my chin for me to look at him, "You alright?"

I nodded and with both of my hands on either side of his face, squished his cheeks together and beamed down at him.

"Yeah, I'm good, baby."

He flared his nostrils and shook my hands from his face.

"We should get a move on, though. Before your dad gets up." I told him, stroking his cheekbone with my thumb.

He grunted, "You're right."

He stood up to straighten out his suit, and then stuck his hands deep in his pockets and watched me dress. His head was lowered, like he was looking down. When I made eye contact, he pretended to look at something else.

My heart soared, he was something else. I would have given anything for him to be mine, probably.

Dressed, I folded the blanket and scanned the couch for any evidence I might leave behind.

Satisfied, I turned to him and took another good look at the boy. Nineteen, he was just a boy. And I was his girl whether he knew it or not. Somehow I knew he'd never be my guy, this impressionable boy.

"Okay, you leave first." Softly, he told me.

I held the folded blanket in my crossed arms and tiptoed to kiss him one more time. He grabbed my shoulders gently and lowered his face to mine and kissed me deeply, briefly. As it brief as it was, however, it almost never ended.

It ended, though, and the door slid open and it slid closed behind me and I walked back to my quarters with heart palpitations like I was near death.

Even though he never did tell me that he loved me.


End file.
